Rose 3: Rose and the Magician's Mask Read Online Free PDF

by ship, all wrapped in tissue.’
    Rose had seen gingerbread before, of course, and Bill had even bought her a gilded piece when they went to the Frost Fair. It was wrapped up with the handbill she’d had printed, in a little box under her bed. But she had never seen gingerbread like this – sheets of it, shaped and curlicued, and stuck with melted sugar into the shape of a little house, with a fence and a path of pink boiled sweets. Rose wanted to live in it. She could imagine tapping her way up that pink sugar path, to sleep in a gingery-scented, spun-sugar bed. She hadchattered so much about the house to Mrs Jones that the cook had put on her best bonnet and been to the grocer’s to inspect it, and had come home and sat staring at her favourite jelly moulds with an almost jaded expression.
    Rose was giddy with excitement. She knew that Bella had even bought her a present, for the little girl had dragged her governess out shopping, and brought her back in a hansom cab, fainting, and whimpering about Bella terrorising toy shops. Since then, every time she had swept Bella’s room, Bella had hovered around anxiously, and kept moving a small parcel from place to place in a manner that was meant to be secretive, and humming in an irritating carefree sort of way. Bella herself had written an immensely long list, and presented it to her father with the look of someone who did not intend to be disappointed.
    Rose had made Bella a needlebook. She didn’t think that Bella would ever use it – her sampler had been in her workbasket in the schoolroom with a rusting needle stuck into the letter ‘F’ ever since Rose had come to work in the house – but it was something, at least. She had embroidered handkerchiefs for Freddie and Bill, and, rather daringly, one for Mr Fountain as well, with his initials fetchingly intertwined. She had just put Bill on Bill’s since, like her, he didn’t have a last name, andonly the ‘B’ seemed a little stingy. She should probably have put William , but it was ever such a lot longer, and she’d had the needlebooks to make for Miss Bella and Miss Bridges and Sarah. She’d bought Mrs Jones a quarter of chocolate satins from the grocer’s and a doily to wrap them in, as the cook had said once how much she liked them. Rose had sat each night, gloating over her little store of presents, and remembering those awful weeks when the other servants had tried to pretend she didn’t exist. It felt like a lifetime ago.
    She had bought another doily too, to give to Susan. It felt churlish not to, and she had been well educated in Christian charity and forgiveness by the orphanage. Besides, they were only a ha’penny each.
     
    Rose woke at her usual time on Christmas morning, but only because Gus clawed her. He had taken to sleeping on her bed, but Rose suspected it was out of affection for a warm body, not for her.
    She lay shivering, clutching at the odd strands of the dream she had been having. A mask… The mask? She wasn’t sure, only that it was white, and cold-looking, and horribly like the dead geese hanging in the cold room.
    ‘Wake up!’ Gus hissed in her ear. ‘Time to go and light the fires!’
    Rose groaned. ‘Don’t sound so happy. I know you’re going to crawl back under my blankets as soon as my back’s turned.’
    ‘Of course I am!’ Gus’s orange and blue eyes were round with surprise. ‘Why would I do anything else? Merry Christmas, Rose dear. Blow the candle out when you go, please. And tell Mrs Jones I would like a sardine with my cream for breakfast, since it’s Christmas.’ He gave a mocking yawn, winked at her, and burrowed back into her bed, leaving just a wisp of white tail showing.
    Rose dressed hurriedly, huddling into the petticoats that she’d draped over her counterpane the previous night – there was no point in wasting extra covers.
    ‘Don’t forget the sardine!’ a muffled voice mewled after her as she headed out of the room.
    Rose clattered down